Sister to A Sociopath
by MoriartysHolmie
Summary: Everyone knows Sherlock Holmes. Genius, detective, sociopath. But what will he do when he finds out he has a sister? A sister equal in intelligence, double the sarcasm.
1. Chapter 1

"Sherlock are you listening to me?!" John yelled to his flatmate.

"I'm sorry John, I couldn't hear anything over your incessant, idiotic gibberish." Sherlock put his head in his hands.

"Sherlock. All I was trying to do was tell you there's a case." John sat in his chair.

"Boring." Sherlock rolled on his back, facing the ceiling, on the couch.

"...And it has Moriarty written all over it." John finished his sentence, causing Sherlock to face him.

"Less boring, continue John." Sherlock sat up straight, listening this time.

"Seven hours ago two women were walking around to the park, and on the swing set were two men..." John started to say, but Sherlock interrupted.

"John, that is barely something that the Scotland Yard needs to handle." He scoffed.

"If you would let me finish one lousy time!" John yelled and Sherlock became silent, "As I was saying, there were two men, dead on the swing set, swaying back and forth. Both had symbols on their chests. A radio playing next to them the tune of Staying Alive playing. Sound interesting enough for you yet?" Sherlock grinned.

"Oh yes, very." Sherlock shot up, off of the couch. As they prepared to leave, John received a call.

"Hello, yes we're on our...What? How is that? No. Alright, goodbye." John shut off his phone and slipped off his jacket.

"Mary again?" Sherlock laughed, and headed towards the door.

"No actually, it was Greg Lestrade. The case has been solved." Sherlock rolled his eyes at him.

"You must be joking. Those idiotic simpletons could not even solve a double homicide case John." Sherlock turned the door handle.

"Sherlock, I am being serious. They said some woman came in and looked at the evidence." He stopped him from opening the door.

"Oh, joy, some police detective. Please John, don't make me laugh." The detective smirked.

"They said her last name was Holmes."

"John, I am not the only being on Earth with the last names Holmes." John opened his mouth to say something more, but Sherlock answered his phone. "Blood."

A voice could be heard from the other side of the line, Mycroft. "Brother, my men are coming to meet you there, I need to speak with you."

"Can't you simply tell me on the phone?" Sherlock replied, annoyed.

The dial tone sounded. Frustrated, Sherlock waited on the couch for his older brother.

After about two hours, he became bored and impatient. "John, how much longer will they take?"

As if responding to him, the door to the flat opened and Mycroft strutted in.

"Hello brother of mine, mind sending your little boyfriend away so we can have our discussion?" Mycroft gestured to John who was scowling.

"I am not his boyfriend. I'm leaving." John walked out and slammed the door behind him.

"What do you want Mycroft? Make it quick." Sherlock swung his legs back onto the couch so he was lying on his back again.

"I would like if you would pay attention to what I am saying." Sherlock groaned, turning back to his original sitting position.

"Is this about the case earlier today?" He looked up at his older brother whom was sitting in John's chair.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Mycroft moved pieces on the chess board, so they were perfectly alligned.

"Do continue brother." Sherlock rolled his eyes, uncaring. Instead of answering, he handed Sherlock a file.

"What is this?" Sherlock studied the manila folder.

"Perhaps you should, oh I don't know, open the folder!" He smiled, seeing Mycroft upset always brightened his demeanor. He carefully opened the file.

It read as follows:

 _Juliette Angelica Victoria Holmes_

 _Mother: Josephine Rowe_

 _Father: Unknown_

 _Born: 1990_

"Those were a few results from a DNA test I had done, after her hat was left at the crime scene this afternoon." Mycroft took back the folder.

"So, I do not understand the significance Mycroft. You interrupted my day for this?" Sherlock leaned back on the couch.

"Well I'm cross matching the DNA at the moment. We're still waiting for the results." Mycroft picked up his phone, results instantly being streamed to his Iphone. His eyes went wide, "Dear God..."

"What is it now?" Sherlock had had enough of Mycroft.

"Sherlock, this woman is our sister." Mycroft looked shocked.

"But that's impossible." Sherlock said.

"It seems so, but unfortunately that is the case." Mycroft explained. "I've arranged to meet with her, at this address in 15 minutes."

"Whatever for? And why at my flat?" Sherlock complained.

"Because my brother, she helped us to clean up a mess. So now she is part of our dysfunctional family, whether she likes it or not." There was a knock on the door.

" Hello?" A voice said at the door.

Mycroft walked over to answer it. "Hello Ms. Holmes, please come in."

A very attractive woman with dark hair, a pale face, and light blue eyes walked in. She was feeling defensive but other than that I could barely read her.

"Pardon my temper but you two are not policemen and I have yet to be told my reason for being here. So I suggest you enlighten me." Sherlock laughed at how abrupt she was with Mycroft.

" My apologies, my name is Mycroft and this is my brother Sherlock."

"Hello." She nodded in both Mycroft and Sherlock's directions.

"Now. Would you mind telling me why I am here? I am terribly busy." She asked and crossed her arms.

" Busy solving cases for the Scotland Yard, you mean?" Her face went an even paler shade of white. " Why don't you take a seat?"

" Ms. Holmes, do you have any siblings?"

"No, I'm an only child." She hesitated before sitting in the chair.

"May I sit here?" She directed the question towards Sherlock.

"Why would I care? What a stupid question." He rolled his eyes.

"Well by the way you were looking at it, it seemed to hold some sort of an emotional value to you." She sat down on the old chair.

"Ha." Mycroft laughed.

"Do you know your parents well?"

"Yes, sort of, what does this relate to?"

"Quit toying with her Mycroft, we think you could potentially be related to us."

"How is this even possible? I mean I don't even know my ... Oh my God."

"Oh my dear, I'm sorry, but it is. Welcome to the family?"

 **Juliette**

"Wait, give me one moment." I tried to process what these strange men were telling me, "Alright. I am Juliette Angelica Holmes. However, you most likely knew that, considering you have a file on me." I had snuck the folder out from their hands.

"It's impolite to sneak you know." I flipped through my file, to say they knew a lot was an understatement. "How interesting, seeing my life on a piece of paper." I shut the file and slid it across the floor.

"So, you have come to terms with the fact that you are our sister?" The one called Mycroft questioned.

"I don't really have a choice in it, so yes. Now the question is what do we do now?" I looked over to the taller, seemingly sociopathic one, Sherlock.

"Well you help on cases, obviously." Mycroft answered.

"And if I refuse?" I glared.

"You would be obstructing police business." Mycroft replied, smirking.

Sherlock seemed to need a moment to talk to his, our, brother alone. Of course, I stayed close to eavesdrop.

"We don't need her Mycroft, you realize I am the smartest person here, correct?"

"Don't flatter yourself, brother."

"How long did it take her to solve the case?"

"4 maybe 5 hours?"

"And did she have a partner, a full laboratory, and days of research?"

"Well no, she just got lucky, Mycroft…"

"I have another case, take her with you."

"No, I shall not."

"Oh yes you shall, or do I have to do a random drug inspection? Hm?"

"Cretan."

"It was nice catching up with you, blood."

I walked back into the room, casually. "Leaving so soon?"

"Yes, I am afraid I must. It was…enjoyable meeting you, sister." He took my hand to shake it.

"And you as well brother." I returned the hand shake.

He left out of the flat and Sherlock stood. "I assume you heard about the case, from your place in the corner."

"You assumed correctly." He slipped on a black trench-coat and scarf.

"Huh, interesting". I accidently said out loud.

"What is so interesting?" He gave me a look that could kill.

"Oh nothing, your wardrobe is just very sensible. You did not seem the Milford coat wearing type, but it is very clever. As you probably know, despite this coat being wool, it is quite waterproof because of its double Irish tweed bonding. Just very interesting, is all." I shrugged, trying to gauge his reaction. For a split second he appeared to be impressed, then turning back to disinterested.

"That is precisely the reason I chose this, actually." He tied his scarf and muttered quietly, "Maybe she isn't such a complete Neanderthal like the rest of them."

I put my simple water resistant pea-coat back on my shoulders and tied the belt around it.

We took a taxi to a red brick building on the edge of the street, I noticed a few police cars, but that was the only thing out of the ordinary here.

I followed Sherlock out of the cab and I paid the driver, unlike him, I had at least a sense of what etiquette was.

We walked up the stairway to the third floor, make a note, 3rd floor, room 321…

"What did you say?" I realized I had said that out loud.

"Oh nothing, I'm thinking." I answered.

"Well stop." He turned the corner into the room.

"Well, well if it isn't our neighborhood pest." Sargent Sally Donovan said.

"Sargent. This is Ju…" She interrupted him.

"I know who she is, she helped us solve a case earlier today, pretty quickly I might add. Thanks again." She put out her hand and I shook it.

A gangly man poked his head out of the apartment's kitchen, most likely where the crime took place, and stepped out with us.

"I'm afraid, I haven't had the pleasure. Detective Anderson." He held onto my hand a bit longer than was considered friendly, not to mention his pulse quickened, and his pupils dialated. No, no, perfectly ordinary.

"I'm Juliette Holmes, it's nice to meet you, detective." I made eye contact.

"Please, call me Phil. Pardon my prying, but did you say Holmes? Any relation to…" He pointed back to Sherlock.

"He's my brother, half-brother to be specific." I shrugged. "So, the body is in the kitchen, correct?" I pulled on a fresh glove from my pocket of my coat.

"Um, yeah." Anderson stuttered.

Sherlock practically ran past me. No matter, I only needed fifteen minutes, I had 8 possible situations in my head, so far.

My morbid brain had already gotten carried away. "Extraordinary." I mumbled, looking at the desecrated corpse in front of me.

Sherlock was saying something about equations and having to do some tests in a lab, but I was examining the body. The body was torn apart, there was no questioning that, however that was too easy. I turned over the body to find a miniscule poison dart, similar to one used when hunting large game. I slipped this in an evidence bag and into my pocket. I looked over to the window, unsurprised to find it partially open. It was just large enough to slip in this poisonous dart. I do want to study this later on, but there was a case to solve.

"We need to go back to Baker street, do some tests, examine pictures. Go to the morgue…" Sherlock began to mumble again, mainly to himself.

"Not necessary." I sighed.

"Pardon?" He spun around.

"I said there is no need, I know what happened, open and shut." I sat on the old couch.

" ." He gritted his teeth slightly.

"Gladly. You see, the victim is most clearly mutilated, there was much blood loss. Also, as you can see, this was not the cause of death. If you look at the victims mouth, you can see it is slightly foaming and there is a rash on his arm. Seizure, caused by a severe allergic reaction. Nothing is visible, of course, but if you look here," I opened the back and carefully pulled out the small vial with the needle attached to show him. "This was inserted into his back, very artfully done, I must say. This poison dart is used on many animals in the Sahara, used by poachers to kill large game. Therefore, this was the cause of death. Find out the serial number, who sold it and to whom. Then you will have your killer."

The room was quiet. "That is highly unlikely." Sherlock scoffed.

"A bit jealous, aren't we, freak?" The Sargent sassily remarked.

" Whatever…" Sherlock began is descent of the stairs.

I started to follow, but an arm grabbed me. "That was amazing." Anderson said, eyes glinting.

"Thank you, but it was nothing, really." I scratched my neck.

"Here." He handed me a slip of paper. "In case you need anything."

I flipped over the card to see his number written on it. "Thank you."

I walked out of the building, to see the taxi pull away. "Thanks for holding the cab for me!" I yelled. "Jerk." I sighed, and prepared for my lengthy walk back to my own flat.

After a block, I felt too tired to continue. What is wrong with me? I had the perfect sleep last night. I'm never this tired. Now there was a stabbing sensation in my leg, I could feel.

I reached my hand behind my calf in an attempt to soothe the aching area, until I hit something. I pulled and I knew what I had found before I saw it, a dart. Just great.

I woke up in a dark room, no windows, on door, and I'm tied up in a chair.

"Oh she's awake! Why hello there sleeping beauty. Waking up for your Prince Charming I see. Jim Moriarty…Hi!"

Great, just what I need, a psychopath, well better play along. "Oh, hello, my name is Juliette. I'd shake your hand, but I'm a bit tied up at the moment."

He giggled insanely and turned to face one of his blonde minions. "Ooh, I like her."

"So…I don't mean to sound too much like a cliché damsel in distress, but why am I here?" I asked, and looked him straight in his crazy eyes.

"Well my pretty damsel, you're quite the little detective, aren't you?" He stepped closer.

"I dabble, here and there, although nothing professionally." I shrugged and turned away. His eyes possessed a strange quality to them.

"Oh my dear, it is considered polite to make eye contact when having a conversation." He tilted my head back towards his. I gulped and faced him. "There, isn't that better now?" He whispered. "Now, care to tell me why you interrupted my little game?"

"G-game?" I questioned, as I started to turn away from him again.

"Uh-uh." He held my chin in his hand. "I have a game, with a certain consulting detective. I create cases that only he can solve, or so I thought. How did you do it?"

"I, just, observed." I swallowed my fear.

"Oh, you are a clever, clever little mouse." Moriarty tipped up my chin. "This, might just work my dear, welcome to our game." Everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Hey everyone so sorry, wow im shocked and pleased at how you liked this story so thanks! I've had finals, other fanfics blah blah, excuses excuses. Anyways enjoy the update, please tell me if there is something you'd like to see._**

"Juliette, Juliette wake up!" Sherlock yelled.

I opened my eyes and saw the inside of Baker street, with Sherlock standing over me.

" What the hell?" I realized I was still tied up in the chair from Moriarty's.

" Why are you in a chair?" He more or less said to himself.

" Long explanation, so little time. Now you might want to get that phone of yours." I started to untie the rope around me.

" What are you..." The phone rang and he stepped over to take it out of his pocket.

" Oh sorry dear, it's mine. " I slid the rope

off of my waist to answer my phone. "Hello."

"Oh hello dearie. How was your trip?" Moriarty's voice easily recognizable.

"A little bumpy but I'll manage. Now what is the reason for this follow up?" I answered.

" Awww you're no fun, you _must_ be Sherly's sister." I stifled a gasp, a bit shocked that he already knew of my relation to the Holmes." Surprise! Obviously you are a Holmes, any other would have been screaming, begging for their lives. Oh but you, you're different. Now, about our little game."

"I'm listening. " I replied, tone flat and even.

"Good girl." He mocked. "Mary had a

little lamb, whose fleece was white as snow, and everywhere that Mary went, that ignorant lamb was sure to go... Tah tah..."

I looked over to Sherlock to see if he had heard any of that. His face was whiter than the skull on the mantelpiece.

"Sherlock, he can't mean..."

"He has John and Mary." _ **(Husband and wife, bringing home a brand new life, sry can't help it.)**_ He replied with a straight face, always emotionless.

"Doesn't that worry you in the slightest?" I asked.

"Not particularly."Sherlock replied, stone cold.

"Alright then." I stood from the chair and slipped on my jacket, once again.

"Do you even know where they are?" Sherlock scoffed, slipping on his own coat.

"No, I can just call him back, Sherock." I took my phone out from where it resided in my pocket.

"That's not how this game works, that's not how Moriarty works. You cannot just…" I put my finger to my lips to shush him.

"Shh, I'm on the phone." I waited a few seconds and heard the phone click.

"Ah, hello Juliette. I was hoping you'd call back. You see I never gave you a part of the riddle." I nearly laughed when I observed the shocked expression on the consulting detective's face.

"Well, I'm listening…" I say into the phone, awaiting a response.

"What has a head but never weeps, has a bed but never sleeps, can run but never walks, and has a bank but no money?" Moraiarty finished.

"Ok then, which river?" I asked.

"Oh, very good. Very nice." He replied.

"Cut the garbage, what river? And no riddles." I answered.

"Kill joy, oh fine. The River Thames." I was about to hang up, when his voice interrupted, "Come alone, or the lamb will die."

I stood in silence, then returned with, "Very well."

"See you soon darling."

Sherlock turned to me, "Well?"

"The River Thames." I adjusted my coat and prepared to leave.

"Do you think you are going alone?" He laughed.

"Moriarty said specifically to come unaccompanied, so yes." I turned the door handle.

"That is the worst idea I have ever heard." He smirked at me.

"Oh, well if you have a better one, then I am all ears Sherlock." I waited, pretending to actually be interested in his plans. When he did not respond, I spoke again, "No, I didn't think so."

I walked out of the door to the flat, "Oh and if I'm not back by seven I'm most likely dead."

I traveled down the stairs and hailed a taxi to take me to River Thames. To be completely honest, I do not have any clue as to why I was so calm about meeting a psychopathic serial killer on my own. I assume it is because, like Sherlock, sometimes even I cannot feel emotions. Perhaps my childhood had some part of it, that is what a therapist would say at least. Therapist, what a silly occupation. Paying some "doctor" to tell you your feelings are hurt, ridiculous. But, I suppose it helps some, no matter.

We arrived at the river at 5:30, I had no idea where the day had gone. Besides the crime scene, being kidnapped, finding out that you had family, nothing seemed to come to mind. I walked down the shoreline and was surprised to see Moriarty standing there, alone. I approached the criminal cautiously, until he opened his mouth.

"Curious, isn't it? How a simple riddle can be so important, or simply a way to confuse a child." His smug grin, annoyed me, yet I was oddly impressed.

"Well done, I must say, I'm rather impressed." I turned to face him. "But, I am still perplexed as to why I am here."

"Oh, I like you. Yes, quite observant. Similar to the other Holmes, yet oh so different." His eyes made contact with mine.

I began to feel a very strange feeling stir in the pit of my stomach. It was new, uncomfortable. I did not like it, to say the least. "What are you doing? What are you playing at?" I stepped back a few steps.

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all. Simply…learning...watching...listening." With each word, he stepped closer, until there was barely an inch between us. "I do enjoy our game, little mouse...but believe me, there is more to it than a few childrens' puzzles."

He walked away and I released a breath that I was not aware that I had been holding. I was confused, for the first in a long time.

 _£181.82 and a lengthy cab ride later._

Back in Baker Street, Sherlock was sitting alone on the couch, head resting on his hands.

"What on Earth are you doing?" I tilted my head.

"Thinking, mind palace." He didn't even look at me.

"Alright then." My phone buzzed. "Would you like any tea, Sherlock?"

"Black, no sugar." He stayed in his daze like trance.

"Sure, thank you, where have you been it's nearly 9 o'clock? Glad you aren't dead. How was Moriarty? Where are John and Mary? Any murders?" I played this little conversation out loud to myself.

I brought in his tea and set it beside him on the table and remembered my phone buzzing. Why couldn't anyone ever just...text?

"Hello?" I groaned over the phone.

"Oh, hello, Juliette. Its me, Detective Anderson, from the case…" A voice stuttered on the phone.

Muy demeanor brightened up and my voice was much lighter. "Oh, detective, what a surprise! Is anything wrong?" I was secretly just happy to talk to someone who wasn't analyzing what I was doing every second.

"No, no, nothing of the sort. I was just wondering if you might like to have tea? To...discuss the case of course." The man said from the other side of the line.

"That would be lovely." I sighed, relieved to have something relaxing and boring to do, considering the events of the last day and a half. If I were to be honest, it was the most interesting 36 hours or so of my life.

"Really? How about tomorrow at 11:30? I'll pick you up? Yeah?" He muttered.

"Yes thank you. That sounds wonderful. Good night Detective." I hung up the phone and sat on the couch, newly evacuated by Sherlock.

 _Time jump whoop_

"How peculiar, only three days ago, I was sitting in my flat, just sitting in a chair and reading. Now, I have two brothers, solved a few cases, and a psychopath on my trail. So thank you, so much for this. I appreciate it Detective." I sat at the cafe with Detective Anderson at 11:43.

"Sounds more interesting than my life, Miss Holmes, and please call me Phil." Anderson smiled at me, genuinely intrigued.

"I doubt that, being a detective for the Scotland Yard. Call me Juliette." I glanced at the tea being brought to our table.

I hadn't realized that I was hungry until the waitress set the tea and blueberry biscuits on the table. "Did you order these?"

I pointed to the biscuits and he blushed. "I, I thought you would be hungry and these have always been my favorite."

"They are my favorite, as well. My mother used to...nevermind." I bit into the biscuit, but instead of the sweet, crispy, warm baked good flavor, all I tasted was a bitter tinge of sadness. After my mother's death, I had just decided it was better to show nothing rather than be hurt confusing as its been, it was nice to have family, no matter how distant they were.

"Is everything okay?" Phil looked concerned and it made me feel, a warm and fuzzy sensation inside.

"Yes, thank you. This is really nice." I pushed a hair behind my ear, instinctively, to anyone else it would be considered flirty, but to me, there was simply a hair in my face.

"I know that we just finished breakfast practically, but would you be interested in going to dinner with me some other day this week?" He scratched his neck.

"Thank you again. Thursday?" I started to clean up the tray but Phil took it up.

This is just getting even more complicated.


	3. Chapter 3

**LONG AUTHOR NOTE** Hello Hello long time no see. Listen Moriarty isnt as in character in this part but I still love him so please no hate. Oh and don't worry Anderson was never really part of the plan in the end LOL. Well you know the drill. Thank you all so much for your support. PS The text got all wonky in this part sorry. There is kissing in this chapter and suggestive content. PSS, I am in no way romanticising kidnapping or anything of that nature, but it's in Moriarty's nature, he is a criminal after all. K bye.

Why had I said yes to another time out with Anderson? It was nice to have someone care about what I said but I don't want a relationship with anyone. That worked out so incredibly well for my mother. Sleeping with a married man, was she mad? Did she love him, I wonder... No matter.

How did my life turn upside down?

Bitter resentment towards relationships, yes. Is this because of my parents' relationship? Oh heavens childhood was quite ordinary, other than the absence of my father. Josephine Rowe. Single mother raising a child on her own. I saw my father once, in a picture. He looked so proud so honorable. I would ask my mother every day when I was small, "When is Father coming home?" "Will he come to my birthday? "

She would always answer the same, "I don't know sweetie."

Without my mother, I don't believe I would know what kindness or love even was.

In our small one floor cottage, we lived quite happily. We would cook dinner, make fires, I would go to school. Up until a few months ago, I had been studying at a university. That was when I got a call. My mother had passed suddenly...

It felt like my heart was torn at the seams, my mother the stitches to hold the pieces together. I couldn't stay in that cottage any longer, too many memories of my mother resided there. I sold the house, packed my belongings and bought a flat in London. A week ago two men came to my house and took me up into a helicopter, calling it "official government business".

And here we are today...

I guess it would be rude to cancel so late on Anderson. It was after this bit of rambling that I received a text. (bold is Juliette, non bold is Moriarty)

Hello darling.

 **Hello Jim. How nice of you to text. Why are you talking to me?**

Oh you know me, criminal masterminds get bored too.

 **Speaking of bored, what happened to all of the cases you were planning on making me solve?**

All in good time deary...besides you looked pretty busy with your new boyfriend the other day.

 **Who Anderson? He is not my boyfriend dear.**

Well what do you call your little outings with him then?

 **We were simply talking...why should you care?**

That talking was a bit too close.

 **Alright Jim you are not my mother. So what if it was a date?**

With that incompetent moron? No honey I don't think so.

 **What? Do you not think I can go on dates with anyone?**

Not with him sweetie, honestly, he isn't your type.

 **How would you know my "type"? And besides that, did you follow me while I was with Anderson?!**

Helloooo. Criminal mastermind, your type is quite obvious. And like I said, bored.

 **OK Mr. Mastermind, what is my type?**

Genius. Dark hair. Brown eyes. Similar height. Irish. A bit psychotic.

 **You just described yourself.**

Hmmm. What a happy little coincidence...don't you agree?

 **No. No way in hell.**

What Ms. Holmes, are you scared? ;)

 **Scared of you?! Ha don't make me laugh.**

Then what is the issue?

 **You are a criminal...**

So...your point is?

 **Why James, if I didn't know any better, I'd believe you were asking me on a date.**

 **Well ta ta. I have a dinner to go to. ;)**

I slipped the phone back into my pocket, not receiving anymore texts.

Why Juliet Holmes, were you flirting…with a criminal madman? I was indeed. I have to admit, it was exhilarating.

Well if Moriarty was watching, may as well give him a show.

I walked to my newly stocked closet, since I was now staying in 221B permanently so it seemed. Sherlock didn't appear too happy that I was staying in his best friend's old room. Poor thing, thinking that acting emotionless, makes him unable to be hurt. But really that makes him the most vulnerable out of all of us.

I dressed in an elegant purple, strapless cocktail dress and tied up my hair into a tight bun, ringlets of curly dark hair falling out the front. I finished off the look with my mother's necklace and began my descent of the stairs. What's the worst that could happen? I get a dull, not so attractive boyfriend? Wow…oh well.

Ouch. You have to be kidding me.

I could feel the recognizable pinch in my leg without looking down.

"Hello dearie." Moriarty glanced over to me and reached out a hand.

I stepped closer and grasped his hand.

"You brilliant girl. So brilliant." He put a hand on the back of my neck and pulled me to him.

A bump tore me from my strange dream.

My eyes were heavy with sleep as I snuggled my head up to some unrecognizable material. I inhaled the scent of mandarin, slight amber, sandalwood, spice, and tones of musk. The scent was strangely comforting. I felt a hand stroke my hair and my eyes opened. I looked up to see the last face I was expecting, although come to think of it I should have. Moriarty.

"Good Lord." I sat up quickly and grew angry.

"Hello there." A venomous smile crept to his lips. "Have a pleasant sleep?"

"No." I spat back at him.

"You sure sounded pleased with whatever dream you were having." The smirk returned to his face.

"Shut up." I paused. "What did you hear anyways?"

"My name…quite a bit actually." He laughed maniacally.

My face was a dark shade of crimson. "I…wait. You didn't do anything perverted did you?" My face was hot and I was terrified.

He gasped. "What do you take me for, some common rabble? I am a gentleman."

I scoffed, "And a criminal."

"So criminals can't be gentlemen?" He feigned confusion.

"Not when they kidnap women constantly." I crossed my arms and turned away from Jim.

"Now that's not fair, you're the only woman I've kidnapped this week." I couldn't help but smile at his comment.

"Oh how comforting." The car stopped. "Where are we?"

"Now that would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?" He opened the door and held it for me, reaching out to take my hand. I refused it and walked out of the car.

I saw the large sign at the front of the restaurant and we walked inside. The interior was exquisite, but void of other patrons.

"What did you do, rent out the entire restaurant?" I mocked, and turned to face him.

"I called in a few favors." His devilish grin came to his lips.

He took my hand before I could protest and lead me to a booth in the back of the restaurant. I sat on the inside of one seat. Moriarty took the seat opposite me.

"Why are we here, Moriarty?" I refused to admit that this place was actually magnificent.

"Would you at least call me Jim?" His large brown eyes had persuaded me to agree.

"Fine." I rolled my eyes and continued. "Now, why are we here?"

"I'm taking you on a date obviously. For someone so intelligent, you sure are daft." He chuckled and said something to the waiter in French.

The waiter rushed away and we were once again left alone. I noticed his eyes travel up my body.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" I looked at the consulting criminal. I covered myself with my arms.

"No." He grinned.

"Then what on Earth is it?" James Moriarty was the only person I had met that I could not analyze.

"You look quite ravishing." Moriarty's gaze traveled back to my eyes. "Your eyes are enchanting." He trailed off. " Like crystals, in a pool of glittering water."

"Uh Moriarty. Would you just tell me why we are on this "date"?" I watched to wait for the waiter to return but the only thing I could see were his chocolate colored eyes.

"Well, like I said, bored?" He shrugged.

"Yes sure." I rolled my eyes and watched the food arrive at our table.

"Really?" I tilted my head in confusion. "Jammy dodgers and milk? What are you, 5?"

"I appreciate the finer things in life, if that's what you mean." He dunked the biscuit in his milk and bit it.

I had to laugh, but it came out as more of a girlish giggle. "You are psychotic."

"Why thank you." He munched the Jammy dodger.

"Having fun, are we?" I questioned the Irish man before me.

"Very much so." He stopped to offer me a biscuit, but I declined. "And you?"

"Besides the obvious piece where you kidnapped me and forced me to go somewhere with you." I paused, "Yes. I believe I am, the best in a while." I started to blush.

His psychotic laugh permeated the silence of the empty restaurant. "Oh dearie. This is much more enjoyable than those silly cases isn't it?"

"I don't know. I kind of miss the whole part of the chase. The thrill of it all." I mumbled, playing with my napkin and fork.

"Isn't it nice to not…" He smoothly slid over to my side. "Think." He sat down. "For once." He leaned in and laid his hand on my cheek. My head turned to him. I had never been so perplexed. I was thinking so much, yet my mind was so empty. I just wasn't thinking. Like the dream, he kissed me. A passionate, and psychotic kiss, one you'd expect from a criminal master. As suddenly as it had started, it ended. His mad, turmoil filled and dialated eyes showed it all. Weakness, trepidation, then hunger and desire.

"I should…get you home." He touched my cheek lightly. I was still processing what had just took place. I had never been kissed like that before. I had never been kissed before, period. It was electrifying, and left me breathless.

"I, yes." My breathing was labored and heavy.

"Do I have to use a tranquilizer this time." He laughed, still not sounding quite like himself.

"No, I will be fine." I walked out into the car once more.

Silence passed between us, and I had never realized how long the car ride was.

I had an urge to sleep, but the only way to lay was to rest my head on the consulting criminal and I don't believe it would help much now. My senses were heightened at the moment. Still, laying down would be better than leaning against the car door.

"Mori…Jim?" He looked over to me, and I could see he was completely aware as well. "I would like to, lay down. I mean, I may I?"

His evil giggle was the only sound in the car. "And mess up my Westwood?" I rolled my eyes, annoyed.

"Whatever. Fine then." I crossed my arms.

Moriarty snaked his arm around my waist and pulled me onto his legs. I inhaled the smell of him and curled up against his suit pants.

His chuckle was now lighthearted, but still a bit tense. "Better?" He shifted and I tugged at his leg. "Hey Westwood, darling."

I fell asleep that night, resting on the consulting criminal. If I was bored before, I definitely wasn't now.

I rolled onto my side and opened my eyes. Where was I? Did Jim kidnap me, again? No, I just never went home last night. I knew nothing bad had happened, but I was still wary, obviously, being in an unknown location, most likely alone with a highly dangerous criminal. If it weren't for my unfamiliar surroundings, I would have chalked up last night as some sort of lucid dream. However, this room was completely different than any other room I had ever been in. The only word to describe it was luxurious. A pale blue color, with violet undertones. Speaking of violet, I was still in my purple dress from the previous night. Well that is one good thing, at least he hadn't violated my space. I sat up to examine the room further. A walk in closet, a desk area, and a built in bathroom. I felt around for my phone, but I should've known that he'd take it. Great, may as well go through my morning routine the best I can.

My feet made contact with the plush, grey carpet on the ground. I made my way to the clean, white bathroom. Everything looked brand new, the shower, the bath, it was magnificent. After I had washed up for the morning, I wrapped up in a towel and entered the bedroom. There was no way, I was wearing my dress again, so I went to the closet. Once again, the closet was stocked with clothes that were brand new, most with tags still attached.

I decided on a long sleeved, dark navy blouse with a lacy front and a white dress shirt underneath and a pair of black pants. Fixing my hair, and putting on black ballet flats, I turned the door handle and saw a long hallway and an elegant staircase. Where am I, seriously? The smell of sausage, eggs, and rye bread reminded me of how hungry I was. My stomach protested and I arrived at the bottom of the stairs. I looked into the equally extravagant kitchen to see who it was making the lovely smelling breakfast. Shockingly, it was Moriarty, wearing a pair of worn jeans, and a white shirt, just tight enough to get a glimpse of his muscular arms and abdominal muscles.

"Good morning." His velvety Irish accent was pleasing this early in the morning, but I was in no mood to hear any of his word games this morning.

"Perhaps you could tell me why I am here, more specifically, where _here_ is?" I leaned against the corner. All of this was very intriguing, yet terrifying.

"Oh, do you really want to leave so soon?" He pouted and set a plate with eggs, and all other Full Breakfast essentials on the marble countertop.

My stomach growled louder than before so I was obliged to sit at the table. Not too long after I sat down, Moriarty followed, pulling up a chair, a bit close for comfort. I swallowed the breakfast food, I had been chewing. "So where are we?"

His cheshire grin spread across his face. "My house." I laughed. "Oh, so criminals can't have nice things?"

"No, no, I just pictured you more of a dark, damp warehouse sort of criminal." I retorted.

"And get my suit wet? No thank you. I think not." He looked at me, pretending to be awestruck at my comment.

"I'm guessing we aren't in England anymore?" I sighed.

"You would be correct, my dear. We are in the beautiful Dublin countryside." He poured me a cup of tea with honey.

"Great. May I go home now?" I pushed the remainder of my breakfast aside, and stared him down. I had had about enough of this charade.

"Hmmmm. Nope. Don't think so. I'm having much too much fun." He tapped me on the nose. The man took my plate and placed it in the dishwasher next to his own. He bent down and it wasn't til a minute had passed that I realized I was "checking him out". Juliette. Angelica. Holmes. What are you, a pubescent girl? I looked away just a few seconds late, he noticed my gaze. I could feel the blush that crept onto my cheeks. I pretended to have a newfound interest in my cup of tea. He sauntered over to my side after closing the dishwasher.

"Why Miss Holmes...I believe you were looking at my arse." A smug grin was plastered on his stubble ridden face.

"You are full of yourself." The blush grew darker with each word I spoke. An arm inched around my waist and I heard the chair drag against the ground as it moved. It was then that I sensed his breath on my neck and heard him whisper in my ear.

"Really, that blush on your face tells me otherwise Juliette." His husky voice made my hair stand on end.

"Really. Moriarty. I would like to leave." I stood from my chair, colliding with the criminal. Why was he always so close? It wasn't as if that kiss last night was anything but some lustful desperate attempt for attention. Right?

"You want to kiss me again, Miss Holmes. Don't you?" His sickening grin was all I saw. As he crept closer, I stepped back. I didn't want this. I couldn't have this.

"Don't worry, We'll meet again, I'm sure." His sudden change in demeanor puzzled me. Why could I never read him? Soon I couldn't read anything, my vision went blurry, then black.

 ** _PSSS Yes I changed the chapter…again. Sorry I need help with this._** ** _L_** **** ** _thought it happened toooo :)_**


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of yelling woke me from my sleep, greeted by a pounding headache, lovely. I looked over to see I was no longer in Moriarty's house, perhaps my yelling had convinced him. I highly doubted that. I was in my room at Baker street. The endless shouting only helped to agitate my throbbing cranium.

"She's only in danger here, Mycroft."

"Do calm down brother, you just want her out of Baker Street."

"And why would I want that, Mycroft?"

"Perhaps because she may be as intelligent, or maybe even smarter than you, Brother? Hm?"

"Are you daft?"

"Dear brother, you aren't the only Holmes with the ability to read people. I can see how flustered you are now that she is here."

"Well, you would be incorrect, Mycroft."

"Have it your way Sherlock, but the girl stays here."

I couldn't take it anymore, I was going to be a part of this discussion. "The girl has a name, you know."

My brothers looked at me, with very similar emotionless expression. Not a moment later, a false smile was plastered on my oldest brother's face. 

"Ah Juliette, how nice to see you up and about." Mycroft's smile stayed in its position on his lips.

"Your false concern is almost comforting. Where were you the multiple times I was kidnapped by that maniac?" There was no getting out now, we were having this conversation.

"Oh that." His confident façade began to fade as he delved into an explanation.

"Yes, that. Unless there's some other kidnapping that occurred that I was unaware of." My teeth were grinding and my fists clenched.

"You see, it was a part of a government mission. This means, I cannot reveal the nature of the case. Surely you understand." His now cocky demeanor was even more bothersome.

"Yes, I do see Mycroft that you are a complete and utter bloody blighter! If I say I want to know what you know then tell me. Good Lord!" My even temperedness had worn off.

"If you really must know, we were attempting to use you to get information on possible targets and other larger criminals in the areas. It would have worked, too, if it weren't for this complete idiot." He gestured to Sherlock who was now in his "mind palace" once again.

"I might have died!" I stared wide eyed at my brother, truly shocked at how insensitive he was being.

"Not a chance, you were completely safe." He scoffed indignantly.

"Tell me again, how was Sherlock at fault during any of this, aside from being a part of this in general?!" I crossed my arms to keep from smacking Mycroft in the face.

"He is whining like a child and making the mission much harder than it was meant to be." He frowned at Sherlock, quite ironic, considering how childlike it appeared.

"Am I even really your sister? Was I just a piece in this disturbing mission of yours? Do you even work for the government? Are we really even in England?" At this point, I was ranting, going off about aliens and anything else I could think of at that point.

"Relax." Mycroft returned his jacket back to its place on his shoulders.

"You are telling me to relax, after you just told me that you had a part in my kidnappings? Let me guess, you're going to ask me to continue the mission next!" I said out of spite.

"Actually yes. We're going to tell Moriarty where are you are and have you kidnapped again…" He looked serious.

"Oh I do hope you are joking." I squinted my eyes at my oldest brother again.

"He isn't." I heard Sherlock say after a needle was injected into my arm.

I felt a thud as I was dropped onto a grassy clearing. Before I had the chance to yell to my captors, no doubt hired by my brother, I tasted fabric wrapped around my mouth. Oh and of course, a blindfold, how original, Mycroft. The whir of a helicopter notified me of his exit and I was left with my thoughts. The smell of honeysuckle mixed with the aroma of fresh lavender far off. I must be in a meadow. I found scents comforting during times such as this. In fact, smell was a sense I greatly depended on while making my deductions. In the midst of my investigation, I picked up an all too familiar musk. As if my situation couldn't get any worse.

"Well, well. If it isn't my favorite Holmes." Revolting, I could even hear the grin on his smug little face, metaphorically. "What's the matter, cat got your tongue? Oh wait." His chuckle sickened me. "I will say, the older Holmes has outdone himself this time. This is a good look for you." Suddenly his voice was much louder, he had gotten closer. I again felt the heat of his breath on the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His fingers grazed my jawline and I flinched.

"Oh I like this game." I truly hoped to God that we weren't in a public place at the moment, because to anyone else this would seem quite inappropriate. As if reading my thoughts, he answered. I know what you are thinking, and no, we are not in a public place of any sort." I was relieved about that fact at least. His hand went to my waist and squeezed lightly. An involuntary gasp was stopped by the piece of fabric that covered my mouth.

"How cute, little Holmes is so sensitive. There is one thing about your attire that I would change." I recognized the absence of his hand on my waist and closed my eyes tightly. When I opened them, I saw the dark, rich brown eyes of the consulting criminal before me. "There, much better." He tipped up my chin and stared into my eyes. "Crystal pools." Promptly kissing my forehead, he snaps his fingers and a group of men lift up my chair. The knots that kept me tied to my chair loosened and I tumbled out of the flimsy piece of wood. Arms flailing, I scrambled around in the air. I braced myself for impact, when I met a pair of arms, rather than the grass below.

"Aw how cute. Falling for me already I see." He laughed to himself as he set me down in the car, eventually sitting beside me. "Luckily for you my dear, we're only a few minutes away from my house." I had been taken all the way to Dublin.

We arrived at the mansion, as Moriarty had said we would, in 10 minutes. He led me into the house and up the stairs to my eggplant colored room.

"Now be a good girl." He said as he removed my gag.

I could breathe out of my mouth once again.

"Much better, see?" He held the bandana gag in his hand.

"Just tell me, what are you trying to prove by kidnapping me?" I still had my hand tied unfortunately, otherwise I would have hit him.

"I thought we were having a good time." He pouted and sat on the bed next to me.

"Leave me alone." I scooted away from him on the bed, all the while, getting entangled in the linen sheets and falling on the carpet.

"No can do, sweetie." He knelt over my tangled figure and scooped me up.

"Put me down." I wiggled in his arms, straining against the sheet.

"So cute when you struggle like that, my little mouse." He held me tighter in his arms.

"Please, just tell me why you're doing this." He laid me onto the bed again.

"Would you believe I'm lonely?" He laughed as if at some inside joke that only he understood.

"Really? Criminal genius, lonely?" I had to laugh at that.

"Aw thank you, I am a genius aren't I? You're so flattering." He paused for a second, "Don't you ever get lonely, Juliette?" I looked into his deep brown eyes, I never saw how much sadness there was in those eyes before. An emptiness I could relate to reflected in them.

"Yes." I said, my voice barely above a whisper. He turned so I came face to face with him, and he cupped the back of my head in his hand. Instead of the rough, sloppy kiss from the night before, this one was caring and empathetic.

He coughed after breaking the kiss and stepped out of the bed. "Dinner will be ready at 6."

My mind was all over the place so I closed my eyes, I needed a nap. I woke at 5:30. Over on the dresser was the most beautiful dress that I had ever seen, or should I say gown? Black with grey lace. Definitely, not something I would buy for myself. Much too elegant for me, but amazing, nonetheless. The dress fit me perfectly. What am I doing? Walking to dinner with a psychopath, great once again you are acting insane.

Then again, what am I supposed to do? My brothers don't seem to care at all. I'm just some woman that shares the same father. A homeless woman would have worked just as well. What was I thinking? At least I wouldn't starve if I died so why not?

"Juliette, dinner's re…" I was standing in the doorway when Moriarty almost dropped the dish he was carrying.

"Is something wrong?" I suddenly felt very self-conscious under his stare.

"No, not at all. You're stunning actually." He had put the food on the table and took my hand in his.

"I'm not completely sure that I can sit in this dress." I faked a laugh.

"You can always sit on my lap." His devilish grin returned. I groaned in disgust.

"Can I not eat one meal with you, without having my appetite spoiled?"

"Nope."


	5. Chapter 5

Hey all! Warning: this chapter has mentions of hunger strike/starving and bits of nudity involved. Love all of your reviews so much everyone. At the end there is also suggestive language but then again it's Moriarty. PS Do you think this is bad? Sorry, I'm just very self-conscious about my writing.

Weeks passed and it was all quite serene. Almost like some unusual routine. I would wake up to a brand new piece of clothing, eat breakfast, Jim would leave, I would walk outside, try to escape and fail, and most times he'd be back before dinner. I don't know what it was about him, but when he walked in the room, my mind couldn't process things. Yet, when he left, I couldn't stop thinking about him. I should feel like a prisoner, but after all this time, in some strange way, it was comforting to have someone else to care for me.

Still no calls from Sherlock or Mycroft, it was almost as if they never cared at all. One night, I decided to ask the question badgering me for weeks.

"Jim?" I asked.

"Yes dearie?" He looked up from his meal.

"First of all, it's Juliette. Second of all, I've been here for three and a half weeks." I continued with a question. "Can I go home?"

"Where will you go? Your brothers left you! All you have is me, dear, and the sooner you accept that, the better you will be." He slammed his fist on the table.

I pushed my plate away. "I've lost my appetite." That was the beginning of my hunger strike.

Every day, I would be offered breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Every time, I would refuse. I locked my door and the food outside it piled up. This continued for nearly 3 weeks. I know this was very irrational and incredibly life threatening, but what was I supposed to do? I'm alone, with a psychopath, one who makes my thoughts jumbled and my judgement cloudy. None of my family cared for me and I was surely never leaving here. I faintly heard a knock at the door, unfortunately death had passed me over. Left to suffer in this endless hell I lived in. So much for not starving…

"Juliette! Juliette, open this door!" Moriarty's voice was quiet on the other side. I could barely hear anything. I couldn't muster up the strength to formulate an answer. "I will not hesitate to barge in!" The banging on the door grew louder and more frantic. He must've picked the lock on the door, because in a minute he was inside the room. He looked visibly shaken, by my appearance no doubt. "Juliette. Oh darling, you need to eat." I couldn't struggle, since I had no strength to speak of.

He carried me down the stairs to the kitchen but stopped at the sofa in the living room. I was laid on the plush chair and dashed to the refrigerator. He brought close to three meals worth of food to where I sat. I felt empty.

"Come on, you must eat something." Moriarty picked up a forkful of what seemed to be some pasta of sorts. I twisted away from him, avoiding the food. "No, I will not have you do this." My chin was tight in his grasp and he forced open my mouth. He lowered the forkful into my mouth, forcing me to chew. Eventually I swallowed the sustenance he offered me. I'm not positive if what I saw was real or a delusion created by how extremely food deprived I was, but I swore I saw the criminal wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. After the third course, I finally had enough food to allow me to walk up the stairs, with assistance of course.

He took me to the closest bedroom, one that was black and red, and through to the master bath. In my two week strike, I hadn't bathed once, and stayed in the same black pants and grey sweater I arrived here in. Apparently it showed because he put me into the bath tub. I attempted to take my clothing off so I could get cleaned, but failed miserably. At this point, I could barely have lifted a feather. Moriarty came over and gently removed my sweater and pants, leaving me in my underclothes. He began to wash my disheveled hair and back. In no way was this sexual, or intended to come across as such, just careful. The tub was drained and I was once again lifted by his surprising strong arms and he wrapped me in a towel. My arms gripped his shoulders, expecting to travel all the way back to my room, when he sat me on the dark bed. James opened the drawer and took out one of his black t-shirts and a pair of boxer shorts, slipping them onto my now frail figure. The puzzling man pulled back the quilted black bedspread and red silk sheets and laid them on top of me. Instead of leaving, he settled, a respectable distance away from me.

It was becoming a habit, me opening my eyes and finding myself in strange new locations. I recalled the events of yesterday and turned onto my side to see Jim still lying to my side. I came close to nudging him awake, however, there was no need because he woke up a minute later. His sad eyes connected with mine. I started to speak, "I just wanted to thank you, for saving my life."

"Sweetie, don't exaggerate. It wasn't anything that extravagant." He grinned.

I began to say something again, but we didn't continue the conversation any further. Slowly, but surely, I was back to my normal figure, and ate regularly. I noticed that Jim went to work a lot more as well, still arriving promptly for meals. After that night, he distanced himself from me. I returned to my bed and picked my own clothing out. One evening, we were both seated at the table and I felt obliged to make some sort of conversation.

"So, I was thinking, maybe I could…" I was cut off.

"No." He didn't even make eye contact.

"What is the matter with you?" I asked, despite the obvious part about how he was a murderous villain.

"Nothing." He replied flatly.

"What are you thinking? Why can't you just say what you feel? You never show anything. It's absolutely infuriating." My mouth was running faster than my brain.

"Because, my dear, if I showed how I really felt, we wouldn't be having this conversation in the kitchen at the moment." His eyes were shining madly like a wild dog's and he was stepping closer.

"I'm afraid I do not share your sense of humor, James." I backed up. My heart was pounding so incredibly loud, I swore it could put a bass drum to shame. Moriarty took another step, then stopped.

"Darling there was no humor intended. I'm completely serious." His insane grin had returned to his face. His eyes had a dangerous glint to them, something about them told me to run.

"I think I better be getting to bed." I stepped backwards and was met with the cold wall pressed against my back. My breathing was rapid and short. He brought up a hand and slipped it behind my neck, holding me in place.

"Not leaving quite that easily, Juliette." I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting him to hit me or something of that nature. I felt a quick prick on my neck and I opened my eyes. Not another tranquilizer… I waited for sleep to come but felt the prick again and saw James kissing my neck. Once more, my brain could not process any of these new experiences.

He takes my lips in his and I wrapped my arms instinctively around his neck, as if signifying his approval, he moves his hands to my waist. One thing led to another and that is how I found myself in a different bed this morning.

My initial reaction was fear, but after upon evaluation, that fear became shock. I could not believe what I had done. Are you really that disturbed, Juliette? He is a mad man! But why on Earth do I feel so strange around him? This has been a frequent occurrence, conversations with your-self, I see. No wonder you slept with him.

I sensed him stirring and I couldn't help but wonder what this criminal looks like while he is asleep. Do not ask me why, I just needed to know. Quietly, I positioned my body in a way that I had a decent view of Jim. In his sleep, he looked almost, peaceful, completely unlike the man I had come to know as James Moriarty.

I was so preoccupied with my staring, that I did not see the signs of a person waking up. All of a sudden, his eyes were open, and he was smirking madly. "Like what you see?" This startled me so much that I rolled over into a mass of black sheets and became tangled in the fabric. While trying to get out of the mess I had created, I flipped onto the carpet. His giggles only grew louder as I tried to tug off the sheets. He walked over to me, clad in just his boxers.

"Need any help love?" You could see the laugh he was trying to suppress.

"No thank you! And don't call me love." I wiggled, attempting to free myself, but failing. The only thing I accomplished was getting myself even more trapped in the constricting silk. He picked me up and undid the sheets I had been entangled in.

"Better now, love?" He smiled, eyes still showing his amusement.

"Stop calling me love." I gritted my teeth and pulled the blanket over me, opting out of the sheets after that fiasco I had to go through.

"Funny, you were the one telling me that I didn't show my emotions, yet you are the one clearly hiding how you feel about me…" As if for more of an effect, he added, "Love."

"I don't…" I protested, but did not know what to follow that with.

"Oh trust me you do, and now you are most definitely not leaving."

The days following that night, I avoided Moriarty at every cost. I would go out of my way to stay away from him. He made me feel things for him, yes that's it. Manipulated me, twisted my thoughts. The things I began to feel around him were perilous, no, there wasn't a question, I was leaving. I would wake before him, made my own breakfast, exercised only by jogging around in my room until he left, then I started on my plan for escape. I would stay outside for hours on end; unfortunately he must have gotten suspicious at my sudden unwillingness to be around him, because now James decided that I needed a chaperone. This meant that one of his goons, Sebastian I believe, would shadow my every move. I worked around this detail, learning everything I could about him, how fast he could run, his break times, each feature that made him an ideal henchman. He never seemed to make a mistake, but the day that he did, I would be prepared.

One cloudy Tuesday, fate smiled upon me. Sebastian had left approximately 2 minutes too early for his break, not enough time to be replaced by another man. That was when I ran. Now I am not athletic, by any measure, but the adrenaline pulsed through my veins and I was flying across the grass. By the time the other man sent to guard me had taken his post, I was halfway through the dark forest. Because of my lack of athleticism, I tripped over a large root, into a dagger like shard of quartz. My calf muscle throbbed as the stone pierced a blood vessel, which caused crimson liquid to spill out onto the earthy ground. After a few hundred meters or so, there was a large volume of the scarlet fluid that created a morbid breadcrumb trail behind me. It was then when I heard a group of voices nearby, I pulled my body into thick underbrush, in order to take cover from the search party.

"Boss, we can't find her." A weaker voice yelled.

"Try back at the house." An easily identifiable Irish accent exclaimed. The shuffling of rushing footsteps could be heard as the man spoke again. "And that is Mr. Moriarty to you, moron."

I made a silent prayer to every God worshipped by man. I prayed he wouldn't see the blood, my blood, that led directly to my hiding place. For a moment, there were no voices to be heard, no footsteps, there was no sound whatsoever. Suddenly, the moonlight shone clearly, alerting me that my secret hideout was discovered. The position I was curled up in gave me a perfect view of a pair of leather loafers and Westwood suit pants.

"Juliette, if you wanted to play a game, you could've just asked." He moved to pick me up, but I shied away. He sighed, "My dear, we can't keep doing this." His hand once again arrived at my back to lift me up, which made me cry in protest. He appeared to catch on. "You do love to hurt yourself, don't you?" He picked me up and I started to scream, but he put a finger to his lips, "Don't fret, my pet, I'll be perfectly gentle." I laid my arms around his neck and hugged his shoulders, it may have been the blood loss, but I swore I had seen the same fear in his eyes as when I nearly starved myself.

It seemed to be a routine at this point, I get hurt, Moriarty saves me, and I end up in his room the next morning. The days had gone back to its usual normality. Well, what I had come to know as normal at this point. However, today, I knew something was off, a certain, rather feminine, calendar marker had not yet made its appearance this month. It's just a coincidence, I told myself. It was only a few days ago that we…Nonetheless, it would be practical to check, then again nothing seems practical anymore.

At breakfast that morning, after I had limped down the stairs, having refused any help I was offered. I decided that a test was in order.

James was not in the dining area where he had been previously, every day before. Not knowing where he was made me incredibly anxious. On my way back to the stairwell, a muffled argument was taking place. Being the inquisitive detective, I inched over to the oak door where the disagreement had been occurring.

A voice I recognized as Moriarty spoke first, "Sebastian, what is the matter?"

"Well sir, it seems that the plan failed. Using the girl to bring the Holmes brothers to us was unsuccessful. They would care less if she were dead." Moriarty stopped his henchman.

"Yes, Mr. Moran. I am aware of that. Your point is..." So, he must be talking to the man who had been guarding me, and why on Earth would a henchman dare to bring up a failure if he already knew?

"Jim, my point is why is the girl still here at all? We could easily get some men to take care of her and no one would be the wiser." I heard a fist slam on the desk inside.

"No!" His voice returned to a somewhat unexcited tone. "No."

"But, Jim. She isn't useful any longer, trust me, it will only take about three hours most likely less." Papers were rustled.

"Now, you listen here, Sebastian. I make the orders around here, not you, nor the Holmes boys, and I say the girl stays. Here. Alive. Do I make myself clear?" A thick silence replaced any comment Sebastian could have answered with, but it didn't last long.

"Something is wrong with you. I tried to ignore the signs, but now its obvious. You don't need to be a genius to see how you've changed. You...you're falling for her aren't you?" Sebastian probed.

"Don't be...ridiculous." Jim moved to the other side of the room and his voice quieted down.

"No, I know you are. You haven't been out for the larger jobs in over a month. You have been spending that time with the girl!"

"Juliette." His voice barely over a whisper.

"What?" "She has a name, it's Juliette."

"I don't care what her name is! No wonder you are getting soft..." There was a slight pause. "It isn't like you've slept with her, right?" There was no sound from Jim, but that was an answer in itself. "Oh Jim, this was definitely not a part of the plan."

"Really, Sebastian, neither was Caroline."

"Jim, you know that is not the same."

"How, tell me how it isn't." Jim asked.

"For starters, she isn't the sister of your arch nemesis. Secondly, she was already a part of my life, you can't have something like that. It's too late, you chose this life." Sebastian listed.

"I was thrown into this life and you know that! Why can't I have that? Get out." James was getting furious.

"I am trying to be rational, Jim."

"Don't you have a job to do?"

"Jim..."

"I'm not paying you to be my therapist, now leave. I'm busy." I hid away from the door just as it swung open. Out of the room came Sebastian, followed shortly after by Jim.

When Sebastian had gone, Jim turned to where I was crouched not too far from the door. "Okay, Juliette, where are you hiding?" His feet came closer and I knew he had found me. He crouched to my level. "How much did you hear?"

"Practically all of it." I said as he sat on the ground next to me. "Is it true?"

"The part where we planned to use you as bait?" He guessed. I shook my head.

"You know what I mean." I rolled my eyes and he looked at me, finally making eye contact.

"Yes and I believe that is what frightens me the most." I took a chance and laid my hand on his. He glanced down at our hands and intertwined his fingers with mine.

"In that case, perhaps we can be frightened together." I saw his head tilt up from its previous position. He leaned in and I took the hint. I pressed my lips to his and once we broke apart, I knew there wasn't any going back.

"You don't think there's a chance that you are..." He hadn't let go of my hand yet.

"Pregnant?" He nodded. I let out a heavy sigh. "Unfortunately, I think it's something we have to consider. You see, I haven't had, you know."

Instead of pushing me away or simply running, he held me tight to him with his free hand, pressing my head to his shoulder. "Alright."

"Alright? What are we going to do if I am?" I was more worried about the potential offspring I was carrying, than he.

"We can't do anything until we know, darling." He pulled me onto my feet, and out to his car. What were we doing? Oh no, he's going to kill me, leave me for dead, he's...taking me to a convenience store.

"James, why are we here?" I asked, uncertain that I would like the answer. "Oh I do love the way my name sounds when you say it, love." Thank you Moriarty, king of straight answers. The door to his car unlocked and after seeing my struggle, he opened it for me. "First time in a car?"

I groaned, "Could you make an attempt to be serious at least, please?" I almost hit myself for what I said next, "Love?"

"Say that again." He had one arm around my waist and was staring me down. Of course I _knew_ what he meant, but that wouldn't be fun now, would it?

"Be serious?" I suppressed a giggle.

"Oh no, no. Don't act coy with me." He furrowed his eyebrows. This was too much fun.

"I have absolutely no clue as to what you mean." I couldn't look at him. He wrapped his other arm around my side.

"Really Juliette, you are a horrific liar." I felt him start to peck his lips on my neck again. No, not here, in public. I was already feeling uncomfortable, but he had to go the extra step to make me embarrassed. "Aw, I thought it was going swimmingly...love." He smiled against my collar bone.

"Kiss me." He hugged me close to him. So close, our faces almost touched.

"Right now?" My eyes ran across the area surrounding us, watching for any onlookers.

"Obviously." He tipped up my head. "And don't close your eyes this time, love. You know how much I adore them."

Eyes open, my palm grazed his cheek, trailing down to his chin. I pushed on, kissing him with everything I had. Jim tangled his fist in my hair, tugging me deeper into the kiss.

My heart was pulsating. I honestly could not speak, I was so, out of breath.

"If we weren't in public, I swear, Juliette." I kissed him on the cheek and walked into the store ahead of him.

"Don't swear Jim, it's not polite." I heard his insane giggle as the bell chimed inside.

A less than thrilled cashier was sitting at the cash register, muttering something intelligible to him-self, no doubt reading some filthy paper, or magazine of that nature. Towards the rear of the store, there was an aisle sign that read, _Health and Body._ I breathed deeply, making my way to the third shelf. There they are.

Jim picked up the first, most expensive box he saw, and laced his fingers with mine. Somehow, it soothed my nerves enough to enable me to sit through the ride back to the house, in silence.

 _ **Tiny time skip**_

Isn't it extraordinary, how a small piece of seemingly insignificant plastic, can determine such a significant event? It's now or never, Juliette. I finish the test and opened the door, not bothering to close it behind me. Jim looked at me, expectantly.

"I'm…"


End file.
